In the open plains outside the city, members of the Sage's Tower stood across from the mafia's assembled forces. It was a standoff that could have been torn from the pages of an epic tale. Yet, the reality was devoid of drama's usual tropes. No gusting winds howled across the field, no hawk screeched from above. Silence blanketed the opposing sides, a palpable tension that even the best of bards would struggle to capture in words.
"Charge!" Wisebel's voice shattered the quiet, the command roaring like thunder.
Not to be outdone, the mafia answered in kind, their own charge erupting like a chaotic wave. Dust rose, and the clash seemed inevitable—until the ground beneath them betrayed its steadfastness.
The earth crumbled away, revealing a vast pitfall meticulously prepared by Wisebel's forces. The members of the Sage's Tower gracefully floated down, their landing softened by magic. The trap had been anticipated, woven into their strategy.
